


stories you can't explain

by sundays



Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Brothels, M/M, Mpreg, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22089010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundays/pseuds/sundays
Summary: Eduardo's never found it difficult to keep his distance from the whores at his father's brothel. That is, until his father purchases a skinny, abused omega named Mark, and Eduardo finds himself maybe falling in love.
Relationships: Eduardo Saverin/Mark Zuckerberg
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yet another new fic lollll
> 
> this is set in some fictional and non-historically-accurate medieval/renaissance location that seems to be an amalgamation of england and the mediterranean lol
> 
>  _loosely_ based on [ this kinkmeme prompt](https://tsn-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/9251.html?thread=20695331#cmt20695331) about eduardo's father owning a brothel where mark works
> 
> title from "grow" by frances
> 
>  **warnings for the entire fic:** omegaverse, mpreg, prostitution, descriptions of past physical and sexual abuse (some underage), mentions of forced abortion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **warnings:** referenced underage prostitution, mention of mpreg, implied past abortion, implied past abuse

Eduardo is a citizen of a sprawling seaside metropolis, a wealthy, world-famous city known for its art and culture and trade.

He hates it.

He hates the chaos of the port, with its slave markets and drunken traders and constant stench of fish.

He hates the opulent excess and hidden corruption of the glittering churches and manors that line the main avenues, hates the way they throw the rest of the city into shadow.

He hates the labyrinthine slums, dark and squalid and overcrowded, hates knowing there's nothing he can do to really help all the homeless and the beggars and the child prostitutes so young they haven't even presented yet.

But most of all he hates the Phoenix, the omega brothel he calls home, a dilapidated two-story building tucked away in a southeast corner of the city, half a mile from the water.

He's lived there his whole life, not because he _works_ there (Jesus no), but because his father is the owner, and it's familiar, and honestly? He's too much of a coward to leave, to go and make his own way in the world without his father's approval and assistance. It's pathetic, really— he's twenty years old. His father is an asshole. He knows he should have left a long time ago.

And yet he stays, helping to run the place, cooking and cleaning and trying to believe that maybe, someday, he'll make it to a university or something.

His father tells him that he should be grateful— that he's an alpha who's constantly surrounded by beautiful omega women, that he has a roof over his head and a bed to sleep in and money to spend however he wants.

And Eduardo knows he's right. It's not a _bad_ life.

It's just— not the life he wants.

***

It's night, just after 2 AM, and the brothel is quiet. 

The girls are all upstairs, either sleeping or entertaining customers. Eduardo's father is asleep in a chair by the fireplace, an empty wine glass dangling from his hand. Eduardo is hunched over the table, charting out all the girls' heats for the next few months, which his father can never be bothered to do.

It's boring work, and he's sort of starting to doze off, when suddenly there's a loud knock at the door.

Eduardo glances over at his father, who hasn't even stirred, then sighs and gets up. 

He opens the door, and standing outside is a well-dressed male beta with his arm around an omega who looks to be about Eduardo's age— curly-haired, shivering, and wrapped in a plain white bedsheet. Instinctively, Eduardo breathes in, inhaling the omega's scent, and fuck, it's so sweet and all-encompassing that for a moment it's all he can focus on.

"Hey, kid," says the beta, jarring Eduardo from his thoughts. "Are you the owner?"

"No," Eduardo manages, swallowing hard. "Um, my father is; He's—"

A hand settles on Eduardo's shoulder as his father comes up behind him, right on cue. "That would be me," he tells the beta. "Roberto Saverin, at your service."

The beta smiles. "Sean Parker," he says. "Wine merchant. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. And _this_ —" He gives the omega a little shake. "—is Mark." Sean's smile grows. "I'd like to sell him to you. I think he'd make a fine addition to your little establishment." He nudges Mark. "Go on," he says. "Show him how pretty you are."

With his eyes fixed on his bare feet, Mark spreads his arms, unwrapping the bedsheet from the front of his body. He's naked underneath, and Jesus Christ, he's so skinny. 

Eduardo feels a rush of fury. "He's fucking starving," he says, with an accusatory glare in the beta's direction.

But Sean just laughs. "I like him like this," he says, ghosting a finger over Mark's protruding ribs. "You're free to fatten him up, if you prefer."

"I do prefer my whores to look more like humans than skeletons, yes," muses Eduardo's father. He's quiet for a while. Then he says, "Come in," and motions toward the fireplace inside. "You're letting in the cold."

Sean enters, and after a moment, so does Mark. Eduardo shuts the door and the four of them head over to the armchairs by the hearth. 

Eduardo, his father, and Sean sit down. Mark remains standing.

"Come here, boy," says Eduardo's father. "Give me that blanket. Let me see you properly."

Mark trudges forward, folding up the bedsheet as he walks. When he reaches Eduardo's father, he hands him the bundle, then stands there, naked, his head bowed.

Eduardo's eyes travel down Mark's scrawny body. There are bruises on his arms, his thighs, his bony hips. His ankles and wrists are red and raw, presumably from shackles.

"Look at me," says Eduardo's father.

Mark lifts his face, his blue eyes blazing in their sunken sockets. 

"What do you think, Eduardo?" asks his father, glancing over.

What does Eduardo think? Jesus Christ, Eduardo thinks he's fucking beautiful. "Um— He— he has nice eyes?" he stammers. "And his lips are... they're nicely-shaped."

Mark meets his gaze. Eduardo blushes.

"Mmm," hums his father. "Turn around," he says then, to Mark. "Spread yourself."

Mark turns and bends over, spreading his ass cheeks apart with his hands. Eduardo looks away.

"How's his slick production?" he hears his father ask Sean.

"Oh, it's great," Sean assures him.

"Regular heats?"

"Four times a year," replies Sean, nodding.

"Has he ever been pregnant?"

"Uh. Yeah, once or twice, but I always had it taken care of," Sean says dismissively. "And as you can see, his figure is unaffected."

Eduardo's father scoffs. "His figure is nonexistent," he points out. He gives Mark's ass a slap, and, apparently satisfied, tells him to stand up. "Let me see your cock," he says.

Mark complies, and Eduardo watches uncomfortably as his father fondles Mark's balls.

"Why are you selling him?" he asks Sean, his hand moving to Mark's dick.

"Oh," says Sean. "See, I recently got engaged, and my fiancée, she says she won't marry me if I've got an omega plaything chained up in the wine cellar, so..." He shrugs.

Eduardo's father nods contemplatively. "Boy," he says then, gesturing toward his own crotch. "Show me what you can do."

Immediately, Mark drops to his knees, and Eduardo looks away again. There's some rustling. Then his father makes a small noise of pleasure, and fuck, Eduardo really doesn't want to be here right now.

"He's good," his father says casually, as Mark sucks him off. "Where'd you get him?"

"Oh, it's a funny story," says Sean, adjusting himself in his chair. "I bought him from his own father in a tavern, maybe four years ago." He chuckles to himself, looking almost wistful. "Fuck, he was a mess— you know, sobbing hysterically, waddling along, big old pregnant belly sticking out. But I mean." He shrugs. "He wasn't bad-looking. And I knew the baby was nothing a little silphium tea couldn't fix." He gives another shrug. "I figured it was my chance to get a pleasure slave for cheap. The father wanted five crowns, can you imagine? But I talked him down to two. Best purchase I ever made."

For a while no one speaks, and the only sounds are the crackling of the fire and the noise of a dick being sucked. 

At last, Eduardo's father lets out a moan. "Fuck," he says. " _Fuck_ , he's good."

"He is," agrees Sean.

Eduardo stares into the fire, watching out of the corner of his eye as his father pulls up his trousers. Then he looks over, in time to see Mark licking his perfect pink lips. He feels his dick getting hard, and quickly averts his eyes, trying not to breathe through his nose, because Mark's scent— something like maple syrup, only sweeter, and wilder— is hanging heavy in the air, threatening to overwhelm him.

"So?" prompts Sean, after a moment. "Will you take him?"

"You know what? I think I will," says Eduardo's father, running his fingers through Mark's curls. "Ten crowns."

Which is nothing, really— Eduardo's seen virgin omega girls sell for two or three hundred down at the markets.

Sean scowls at the price. "Fifty," he demands.

"If he were a prime specimen, maybe," scoffs Eduardo's father. "But look at him," he says, gesturing. "He's skin and bones, jumpy as hell, nowhere close to a virgin. You said you bought him for two. Ten is generous."

"Thirty," says Sean, crossing his arms. "He's worth that much, and you know it."

"Fifteen," counters Eduardo's father. "I won't go higher."

There's a moment of silence. Then Sean sighs. "Fine," he says. "Fifteen."

And that's that. 

Eduardo's father pays him fifteen crowns, and Mark is theirs; Sean takes the money and leaves without a backward glance.

Eduardo's father turns to Mark, who's still kneeling on the floor. "Well," he says grimly. "Welcome to the Phoenix."

Mark doesn't reply, just sits there motionless for a few moments.

Then he starts to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! please leave a comment if you'd like to see more! :) kudos are also very very appreciated!!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **warnings:** physical abuse

"Stand up," Eduardo's father tells Mark.

Mark rises shakily, and stands there, his shoulders trembling with silent sobs. Eduardo's father stares down at him.

And Eduardo holds his breath, because he knows— all too well— that his father is not a gentle man, not the type of man to tolerate displays of weakness, to hold a crying boy's hand and wipe away his tears.

And sure enough: "Shut up," his father tells Mark after a moment, slapping him across the face. "Stop crying."

Mark stumbles back a little, and if anything, begins to cry even harder.

Eduardo's father lifts his hand as if to strike again, and—

"Father, don't," Eduardo hears himself saying.

His father wheels around. "What did you say?"

Eduardo winces slightly. "Nothing, I just— he's scared, Father. Hitting him will only make it worse; just give him a day or two, and—" He breaks off at the look on his father's face. "I'm sorry," he mumbles.

His father steps forward and takes Eduardo's chin between his fingers. "Look me in the eye," he says softly, "and tell me you know how to run this place better than I do."

"That's... not what I meant, Father."

"It's not?" His father arches an eyebrow. 

"No, I swear," Eduardo whispers, hating himself.

"Then let me deal with my whores as I see fit," says his father. He lets go of Eduardo's chin and backhands him, twice on each cheek— hard, but nowhere near as hard as Eduardo had been anticipating.

Then he turns his attention back to Mark. "You. Omega," he says.

Mark isn't crying anymore, just staring, his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach and his shoulders tensed, like he expects another slap.

But none comes. "I've forgotten your name," Eduardo's father says, his voice brusque but not cruel.

Mark glances up momentarily, frowning, then looks back down. "Mark," he mutters.

"Listen to me, _Mark_ ," says Eduardo's father. "From now on I expect complete obedience from you— you're under my roof, you do as I say, as soon as I say it. That means the next time I tell you to shut up and stop crying, you shut up and stop crying, and don't wait for my fucking son to stand up for you. Do you understand?"

Mark nods.

Eduardo's father scoffs, then grabs Mark by the shoulder and shoves him toward Eduardo. "Bring him upstairs to an empty bedroom," he orders.

"Yes, Father," says Eduardo.

"Light the fire, get him something to eat, let him wear some of your clothes."

"Yes, Father."

"And make sure he doesn't start _fucking_ crying again."

Eduardo swallows, and nods, and murmurs, "Yes, sir."

"Go," says his father.

So Eduardo grabs an oil lamp, takes Mark by the hand, and leads him across the main room and up the narrow staircase.

"I'm Eduardo," he tells Mark quietly as they ascend the stairs. "It's nice to meet you."

Mark doesn't respond, doesn't even look up.

They reach the second floor, which consists of a hallway lined with four doors on each side. Even in the hall it reeks of pheromones and slick and come, and from behind one of the doors there's the faint sound of moaning. Probably Christy, thinks Eduardo.

"This is where the— the workers stay," he explains to Mark.

Mark pulls his hand out of Eduardo's. "The whores?" he asks flatly.

"Yeah, the..." Eduardo frowns a little. "Come on," he says then, beckoning. "Your room's at the end."

Together, they make their way down the torchlit hallway until they get to one of the two empty bedrooms. Eduardo opens the door, and he and Mark squeeze inside.

Eduardo sets his oil lamp down on the dresser. "So this'll be your room," he says. "I know it's small," he adds, which it is— small and sparsely-furnished, with just a hearth, a bed, a dresser, and a chair. "But, um. You get new linens every morning."

Mark says nothing, just kneels down on the floor and begins to fumble with the buttons of Eduardo's pants.

"Hey," Eduardo says faintly, grabbing Mark's wrists. "Hey, don't do that."

Mark looks up at him, his expression impossible to make out in the semi-darkness.

"Mark, you— you don't have to— Only with my father and... and the customers," Eduardo stammers out. "Stand up, okay?"

Mark doesn't move. "You don't want me to suck you off?" he asks. He sounds confused.

"No," says Eduardo, which isn't... exactly true. "I mean— I mean you don't have to. Just— Look, I'm gonna light the fireplace, okay?" Eduardo says, turning and grabbing the flint and steel from the mantle. He's never been good at getting fires started, and it's even more difficult with an erection.

A few minutes pass in uncomfortable silence. 

Then, behind him, he hears Mark stand up. "E-Eduardo?" he asks quietly.

Eduardo glances back at him. "Yeah?"

Mark flinches, bows his head. "Your father told you... I could have food," he says, sounding uncertain.

Eduardo's chest clenches. "Shit, yeah, you can, of course," he says. "I was just— I wanted to get you settled in your room first, but I could— I could get you some now, if you want?"

Mark doesn't answer, just stares at him. And fuck, he looks so pathetic standing there like that, stark naked, his shoulders hunched, his bruised arms wrapped uselessly around his abdomen.

Eduardo gets to his feet, sets aside the flint. "You stay here, okay?" he tells Mark gently. "I'll get you dinner."

Mark nods, and exhales in what Eduardo can only imagine is relief that he's going to be fed. He's so fucking thin; Eduardo doesn't really want to think about how hungry he must be. So he doesn't think about it— just leaves the room, closes the door, and hurries downstairs.

***

His father is asleep by the hearth again, snoring, so Eduardo moves quietly. He visits his bedroom first, where he picks out a pair of trousers and a tunic that he hopes will fit Mark's emaciated frame. He drapes them over his shoulder, then goes to the kitchen and quickly puts together a tray of bread, cheese, salted ham, and a glass of water.

With that, he heads back upstairs.

When he reaches Mark's room, Mark is sitting stiffly on the side of the bed, his legs crossed and his chin in his hands, staring into his lap.

He looks up at Eduardo's entrance.

"Hey," says Eduardo tentatively. "So I brought you something to wear. And— and the food, obviously." He hands Mark the dinner tray and lays the clothes down on the bed. "I don't know if you want to get dressed first or eat first, but—"

But Mark is already eating, shoving chunks of bread into his mouth and swallowing without chewing.

Eduardo watches for a moment, then sits down beside Mark on the bed. "You don't have to go so fast," he says.

Mark freezes.

"I mean, you can eat however you want," Eduardo hastens to add. "But just— you don't have to worry about food here. My father's never starved anyone, okay?"

Mark hesitates, then nods. He pops the last piece of bread in his mouth and, with somewhat more restraint, moves on to the cheese. "I'm not scared," he says then.

"Hmm?"

"Downstairs, you told your father I was scared. But I'm not."

Eduardo frowns.

"I don't get scared," Mark states firmly. "Of anything." He sets down the cheese and begins to nibble on a slice of ham.

And Eduardo doesn't question him, doesn't point out that he can _smell_ the fear mingled with Mark's omega scent, doesn't ask why he was crying if not from fear. He just nods. 

They don't speak for a few minutes after that, and Mark finishes his food. He licks his fingers when he's done, and glances at Eduardo. "Thank you," he mumbles.

"You're welcome." Eduardo gives him a small smile. Mark just blinks back.

And Eduardo finds himself staring, because Mark looks— really beautiful, lit by the lamplight, his features softly illuminated, the perfect curve of his lips visible even in the relative darkness of the room.

Before he realizes what he's doing, Eduardo reaches out, touches his arm. 

Mark recoils.

"Sorry," says Eduardo.

Mark frowns at him.

"I'm sorry," Eduardo repeats, flushing. "I'll finish with the fireplace," he offers. "You can get dressed." He stands abruptly and hurries over to the hearth, where he gets to work lighting the fire. 

He doesn't turn around until a few minutes later, when he's got the flames crackling cheerfully.

Mark hasn't moved from the bed.

"You okay?" asks Eduardo.

"You didn't have to apologize," says Mark.

"Huh?"

"For touching me," Mark shrugs. "You didn't have to apologize."

"Oh."

Mark stands up and silently puts on the clothes Eduardo brought him, first the tunic, then the pants. When he's finished, he sits back down. He fidgets for a moment with the sleeves of the tunic. "Are you sure you don't want a blowjob?" he asks then, glancing up. "Or a handjob?"

Eduardo stares. "I— I'm sure," he manages at last, though his dick seems to disagree.

"I could make you come in like three seconds," Mark says matter-of-factly.

"Mark," whispers Eduardo. "Please."

"What?" Mark asks.

"Just—" Eduardo sighs. "Look, just get some sleep, alright?" he tells him. "I'll wake you up for breakfast in the morning."

Mark gazes at him briefly, his expression unreadable. Then he nods. 

"Good night," says Eduardo.

"Good night," Mark replies.

And Eduardo slips out of the room, closing the door behind him.

He walks down the hallway, down the stairs, and past his father, who's still asleep. He shuts himself in his bedroom and jerks off as quietly as he can.

Then he lies down in bed, and thinks of Mark, and doesn't sleep for hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! a comment or kudos would mean the absolute world to me.


End file.
